From Fate to Destiny
by Anayah
Summary: Eponine, Gavroche and Azelma have another destiny, different from the one which we all know. What might have happened if they had left, and experienced a different story?
1. Lost Ones

Somewhere within darkness, a battle raged. Where this darkness was, no one shall ever know. Just as the fish will never find the sky, and the tiger will never know the ocean floor, man will never know this dark place. Like a storm travelling over the country, everyone fearing they will be where the storm strikes, for it cannot stay in the sky forever, it must release its rage somewhere, and where will that somewhere be? It will be on Earth. The battle commenced, but it was not between two great physical armies. There was not even a certain outcome. For the battle was between Fate and Destiny. Both wished to send lightning bolts creeping towards the Earth. But there was a problem: one group of people had been targeted for two different outcomes. Fate had decided a clear, straight, and terrible path for them. Destiny had too, none the less terrible. Only one outcome could occur, but which one? What is the difference between Fate and Destiny? Both are just as daunting, and neither stronger than the other. This battle would go on long.

The battle has ended. Both sent their lightning bolts, two creeping fingers reaching terribly towards the people. The battle had an outcome. It is impossible to know why this outcome came to be. The finger of Fate won. The people were struck, and so doomed. It is not often that a person is given a Destiny, or a Fate. The two concepts, writhing and twisting the existence of their victims, are unknown as what lies beyond the stars. This Fate, which the unfortunate ones were given, was a straight trail through a dark night. Destiny lost, and so the lives these people had almost been made to live were forgotten. Almost. The outcome of their Fate has been charted down before, by another. But what would have happened if the guideline of Destiny had caught the people first? In another reality, the world is twisted. In this reality, Destiny won, and the people's lives are taking a different turn.

Agirl stood. She did not have the comfort of company; she was alone. Alone, just like always. The alleyway was covered in filth, and there were likely rats lurking in the crevices, and in the houses of the unwary people. The people would probably not do anything even if they knew. What could they do when they still had trouble getting food and warmth? With children expecting care at home the rats would be the least of worries. Their parents would put fake smiles on their faces and pretend to be happy, just for the children. In their opinion, the children had their whole lives ahead of them, and had to be shielded from the terrors of life in the lower parts of the city. The children would play, and not understand the troubles which their parents were going through.

The girl knew differently. No child could be that oblivious. It was this that happened in every family, every city, every culture: the children were underestimated. They may not react to poverty in the same way as adults, but they still knew. The difference was that they knew how to make the most of their lives. Many a child could be seen playing by the gutter, with what sticks and stones they could find. Deep down, they all know their unfortunate situation. They simply do not wish to acknowledge it. They hide their surroundings from themselves, saying that everything will be alright in the end. In their sleep, they think of the parents, and wonder what argument or trouble will come next.

The parents are wrong in another way, too. The truth was that the children had no future ahead of them, not the way matters were going. They would grow up poor, and eventually choose to either be poor but honest workmen, or they would choose to earn a living on the other side of the law. The reason that the girl knew this was simple. She had been one of those children. She had possibly had two or three years left of her childhood when she had come to this city, the years which are treasured the most. Then it had been stripped away from her. All parts of childhood which adults hold so dear to them. The carefree play and talk, without needing to worry about how she would survive to live another day, the jokes and laughter… even her innocence had been torn away from her, due to her father. She understood now. From the day she had been born, she had been doomed. She had started childhood committing the crimes of cruelty to others around her. Now she had started her older years committing real crimes, and affecting many honest people. In fact, it only worked on honest people. What life would she lead? What life was there left inside her? She occasionally had a few moments of humour which came out when she least expected it. This she prided herself in. Her life had been a downhill slope from the start. First her mother had encouraged the crimes of cruelty in her childhood, but now her father had found uses in her which she tried not to think about. She cared little for the work which she did for her father, and did it half heartedly. She was aware of what she did, and understood that it was wrong, but hardly cared anymore. But what did it matter now if it meant getting food on her family's plate?

Another girl was running towards her. This girl was only a year or so younger, but, like the first one, was tiny, and gave the appearance that she was years younger than her actual age. She was dressed in the same manner of rags, and also walked barefoot. The new girl reached the other's side, and stood motionless beside her. It was clear that the two were sisters, and the first girl was the elder. The eldest had darker hair, but it was just as knotted and tangled as the other's. Both wore skirts covered in filth and peppered with holes, and chemises too thin and worn to do much good. The eldest had the luxury of a hat. She tended not to wear it in front of her parents, as they would likely take it from her and her father would keep it for himself.

It was dark, although the sun had not yet set. Their father said that it would snow soon, but he did not care. Their family had long ago lost any sense of honour. The eldest noticed that her sister was shivering violently, and then noticed that she was shivering too. Without saying a word, she crouched down on the ground. Her skirt could not possibly gain more dirt than it already had, so why worry?

"'Ponine, why are you out here?" the younger girl asked in a weak, whispery voice. She knelt down too, although she did not understand why she did. She just copied her elder sister in the way many do, "Eponine? Eponine! Why don't you answer? Why are we kneeling down?" The 'you' had turned into 'we', as sisters often found it necessary to speak of both of them at a time.

"Crouching is warmer than standing. Why'd you follow me, Azelma? I needed to be outside."

"How could anyone want to be outside! It will snow tomorrow, and it's warmer inside," Azelma exclaimed, in a persuasive tone.

"P'pa sent you, didn't he? But I can't stand one more instant in that…that hole! Something is going to happen. I can tell, I can. I just feel… there is a danger coming. Everything is going to change, that's what it is. It may be in a year or a day, can't tell. I've gotta get out of here. I can make others think I don't mind the way we live, but I can't convince myself. We ate today, anyway. I'll be OK if I go."

The air seemed to have suddenly turned even colder. Azelma took a sharp breath.

"You mean… you're going to leave? You can't! How will you live? What will Papa do to me?"

Eponine stood up and walked a few steps away. Her sister followed, and stood in front of her. She changed direction, but Azelma still followed. She finally gave in and turned to her. The tone of voice was roughened further by anger.

"We've been failing our duties. Remember the letters we lost? What if he finds out? Just tell him you never found me," with that, she turned, and began a brisk walk. Azelma still followed, and Eponine spoke harshly to her without stopping. "Will you ever leave me alone? It's not just Father and Mother, it's you too! All of you!"

She broke into a run. Azelma shouted after her, "then I'm coming too!"

This was unexpected. She had not expected her sister to act this way. She halted, and turned. "What?" her tone was softer, and curious. "Why? How?"

Azelma was standing still. She was nervous, it was obvious, but there was something else. It was an expression Eponine had never seen, and never expected to see. It was determination. Eponine continued, "You can't! I never said it was easy. We won't be able to eat every day, and we'll be cold, and it'll be terrible! You need to stay here. Safe."

Azelma was still nervous, but that determination seemed to have increased. "I'm not that much younger than you! Besides, I want to come. D'you really want to be alone?"

I'm alone all the time, Eponine thought to herself. It was now her turn to be cautious as she spoke, "I was thinking of asking Gavroche." She smiled wryly as she spoke, "it would hardly make a difference to him, being on the streets all the time. I don't know how long I'll stay away. I'll just stay long enough…"

"He's years younger! And you trust him more than me? I'm coming too. How were you going to find him?"

Eponine smiled. "Who knows? Maybe I will need your help," seeing Azelma's triumphant face, she added, "just for that."

The two sisters turned to face the street in front of them. Eponine began to hum, and forced herself to smile as she looked at the grotty, terrible streets of the city. The city of Paris.


	2. The Snow Falls

"Any luck?" Azelma asked.

The glint of hope within the question had faded after the first three times it had been asked. The two girls had been searching for several hours now, but with no result.

"I found nothing," she continued, "Maybe we should stop for tonight… Eponine? Are you listening?"

"Huh?" Eponine looked up, "oh, no, I didn't find him."

Her sister sighed, "Who knows where Gavroche gets to. Maybe the only way to find him is to let him find us…"

A baby's cry made them both tense and look up, but as it faded they relaxed. The real matter at hand was where to go. Eponine, although she did not understand it, knew that she did not want to o back to her parents. Something was keeping her away from them. They decided to stay together, now that the cold of the night was really beginning to close in.

"We could sleep under the bridge," suggested Eponine, "Like we used to".

Azelma's face paled slightly. "The bridge? But it was terrible! It's wet, and won't keep out the cold."

Eponine remembered how much her sister had hated the bridge, where they had slept before their parents had found a home. The room had not been much of a home, but it was still inside. She imagined what it was like at No. 50-52 at the moment. There might even be embers in the fireplace at the moment, and it would have no wind to bite through her rags. Was it wrong to leave? She was not so much worried about herself as Azelma. No, some sort of instinct discouraged her from going back. If she did, she would be in danger…

"The bridge it is," she called, and ran towards the river, a smile on her face. Azelma had no choice but to follow.

They reached the bridge, and crept underneath it to the stone edge, hardly four feet across before you either hit the stone bridge or fell into the water. They slept the night there, on the wet stone. Eponine awoke early in the morning. She panicked for one second when she saw the frost and mud around her, and then remembered that she had left her home. The water on the river's side had turned into frost, and her breath looked like smoke. Seeing Azelma sleeping miserably beside her, she gave her a nudge. The girl whimpered, and mumbled something. Eponine nudged her again, a little harder this time.

"What?" she shouted, and would have complained more, until she saw her surroundings.

She silently sat up.

"We—we need to keep looking. Come on," Eponine felt a touch of guilt for letting her sister come with her. But she also felt annoyance that her sister could not take care of herself, and that she would have to be guided the whole way. That guilt may have been for the annoyance which she felt, too.

No word was spoken about food. It was not the sort of thing that either of them took for granted, anymore. This morning they stayed together, and searched further from their home. Their brother was nowhere to be seen, but Eponine refused to give up. Azelma even suggested returning to their parents once, but was replied with a glare. Eponine did not even understand her grim determination herself, but kept on. When noon was coming near, she thought of something.

"Remember the letters we lost?"

Azelma replied glumly, "you mean the ones _you_ lost only a few days ago? What about them?"

"I still remember the directions some. Or do I? Yes, there was that turn down the left street, then… Whoever the letter was for might give us food."

Her sister's eyes lit up, "You think they will?"

Eponine turned down a small street, "if Papa thought the person would give us money, I don't see why they wouldn't give a little bread."

They soon reached a small house. It was run down, but looked enough like the sort where a sympathetic person would live.

"Ah! I remember now. This one was Madame the—what was it?—I can't remember!"

By this time, they had reached the front door. She knocked twice, and after a few moments the door opened.

"Yes?" a woman answered. She wore skirts which looked clean enough, and she appeared kindly. Her gaze fell upon the two girls, and she frowned. "What is this? I do not have much to give."

"I beg your pardon, Madame, but we have been sent by our father. We are a large family, you see, and there are too many mouths to feed. If you please, we only need a little bread, just for the two of us. We do not expect to get another chance to eat until tomorrow."

After Eponine had spoken, the woman sighed. "I guess I could spare a little. Wait here."

After she had retreated back into the house, Azelma gave a sigh of relief. The woman returned with a small loaf of bread, which appeared dry, and had a hard crust. Nevertheless, it was better than they could have hoped for, and Eponine took it hastily from the woman's hand. She did remember to smile, but by then the door had been closed.

Having eaten, they resumed their search. The day became no warmer, and the street was darkened by a huge, grey cloud, looming over them like a great wave threatening to crash down at any second. Neither spoke of whether their parents would look for them. Azelma wondered what would happen if they were found. She had no reason not to return, but she could not seem to be able to talk sense into her sister. Not that Eponine acted sensibly on any normal day, but her insane ways of dealing with life always somehow seemed to work. Their parents had often congratulated her for being successful, when she had actually done only half the work she was supposed to.

Eponine's constant humming, which had been continuous since they had eaten, suddenly stopped. Azelma stopped also, and was about to ask what was wrong when she was hushed. There was a wall by the path, and there were noises on the other side. It became clear that there was a person. "Gavroche?" Azelma mouthed, but Eponine shook her head. There was shuffling, and the sound of boots too heavy to be a boy. Eponine shrugged and continued walked, but the footsteps came nearer and nearer. There was a gap in the wall a bit in front of them, where the wall had been knocked down—

"Eponine! Azelma! What the devil have you been doing? And in this weather, too! Did you mean to worry your mother this much, or have you just finally gone insane?"

"Montparnasse, why'd you scare us like that? It's not the first time I've stayed out at night."

"But Azelma never went out before; anyway, your father needs you. I've been sent to get you home."

"Get us home? Look, I don't need you," she laughed, "We'll come home as soon as possible. See?"

Montparnasse knew her and her parents, as he had agreed to perform dirty work for her father before. As usual, he wore fashionable and well made clothes, but they were dulled from the ruffian's work he did.

He shook his head, "I've been told to take you home."

This made a pause. Azelma did not dare speak; she did not have the right to make Eponine's decision. Eponine continued, trying to sound cheerful, "I'm able to go home myself. So can Azelma. Let us be, we don't need you."

Montparnasse grabbed Eponine's arm, and tried to drag her. She resisted, but he only tightened his grip enough to make her clench her teeth. He began to walk back in the direction of their home. Azelma stood, with no knowledge of what to do.

"Let go! Or…or…"

"Or what? Azelma, will I need to drag you, too?" Azelma bit her lip, and then ran in front of him, in a feeble attempt to block his way. The man continued, "You really have gone insane, then. I have a good mind to—"

He froze. A flake of snow had fallen from the sky. More followed, and soon the whole sky was filled with dancing flakes, in such a rush that they had to squint to keep it from getting in their eyes. A sudden wind swept snow across the path, in front of them. The air suddenly felt much colder than it had been. It was as if ice had managed to creep all over their clothes, and a whipping wind spun in a circle around them. Eponine took this chance to escape from his loosened grip. He did not seem to notice, though. He stood, his face pale. The wind made sounds, as it always does. But these sounds seemed different. A mournful wail seemed to come from within the wind, and it rose, until moans and cries surrounded them. There was no relief from these cries, no escape. She took Azelma's hand, and together they began to run. Away from this crying, away from this wind. On they ran. They ran until they were too tired to run any more.

The following day, a boy was walking through the streets. This boy was Gavroche, the brother of Eponine and Azelma. He spoke some rude words to an old crone, and was singing. He was heading towards the home of his family, No. 50-52. He was scruffy and thin, and wore no shoes. His span of knowledge was that of a man's, but he treated rough matters of the street with the same innocence and twinkle a young boy would treat his game with. He went to visit his family every so often to remind them that he existed, so he told himself. Nothing exactly happened when he visited, as they were too caught up in their own matters.

He shoved the door, and, as usual, it swung open. The normal sight met his eyes: the two pallets, the dirt in the corners—was that a new cobweb?—but the people inside this lair acted differently. There were the two people who he was ashamed to call his parents. They were arguing, and he caught a part of their conversation.

"It's because of you! If you didn't work them all day and sent them galloping about Paris this never would have happened! All you care about is your way of getting money, and it's always them who suffer from it."

"Quiet. What would our neighbour think of us? He can hear us, no doubt. Anyway, I sent Montparnasse to find them."

They stopped, suddenly aware that they were no longer alone in the room. Gavroche, cheerful as always, spoke up.

"What's this? Why the shouting?" a pause, and he then added, "What of my sisters?"

"You!" the cry which emerged from this mother could have been directed at a complete stranger, "do you know where they are?"

"No more than you seem to. Ah! They're gone? Both of them?"

"Yes, they're gone. What are you staring at?"

It was at this point when he decided to leave. He strolled down the street singing, and no onlooker could have guessed the turmoil and confusion which churned inside the small boy.


	3. Onwards

Paris threw on its deathly white cloak, and the city was transformed. Snow can hide the nature of a city. None of the dirt which normally shaded the stones was visible; the place could just have easily been a grand courtyard as a lowly patch of mud and grass. A poet would look at the ground and see in it grandeur, a land which no man has touched. Only the buildings, with their filth and flaws, rising out of this frozen sea, gave away the city. The snow would soon be blackened by smoke and dirt, and the city would once more become the place that it was supposed to be. One of the poor inhabitants of the city, upon looking at the snow masking the ground, would be horror struck. To them this ghostly face of the city would symbolise what they feared, as they overlook all that is beautiful about he land. Snow means cold, illness, starvation, suffering. It would mean soaked fuel for the fire which would not blaze. It would draw away the pleasantness of life, until the only thing left is cold and darkness. For some it even meant death. No. For the many people in Paris, snow was not to be rejoiced. Just as snow is the chime of joyful festive bells for rich children, it is the death toll for the beggars of the streets.

As for the gamin, the child of the streets, he did not quite understand misery. He did not seem to understand, in fact, that he was supposed to be unhappy in the terrible state of near starvation which he was in. He would still use the same routes across the city as he always did, and still hum the same carefree tunes. Snow made no difference to the food in shop windows which could be stolen in the blink of an eye. All it meant was a cushion for his bare feet, used to the cold as they were.

One of these childrenwalked over the snow. His feet had become numb long ago, a good thing, for his part. It meant that he could ignore the jaws of ice which gripped his feet like a bloodhound. The snow placed other people in foul moods, though, so he did not receive his usual round of smiles as he sung through the streets. Judging form his appearance, he could have had no intention in his wanders. But he had been walking constantly all day, hardly retracing a single road. The grins he had received, he had ignored. Singing was a habit to him, now, and to those who knew him it was clear that he was in deep thought. Every so often he would approach another gamin, speak a few inaudible words, and then continue on his way. He had taken a zigzagging path, sometimes turning back on himself, and sometimes walking down alleyways well known by him to be dead ends.

Eventually, after a day's worth of wandering, he came to a halt, and smiled.

Three figures stood on the side of a road. The road was not completely deserted, but not crowded either, due to the weather. There was no point in time when a person was not passing through it, and a few huddles of men stood to the side here and there along the length of the street. One of the figures was slightly bent over, this person was well beyond their youth. It was a man who looked to be near the end of his middle years, but he was well clothed in old clothes, with only a few tatters or holes. Facing him was a smaller slender shape, a girl. She appeared to be coping with her fits of shivers and the occasional cough well, and was talking to the man. Standing slightly to the side was another girl, as poorly clothed as the first, and slightly smaller. She stood awkwardly, her hands grasping around herself for warmth, and was watching the other girl with a gloomy light in her eyes.

The man was holding out a piece of paper, a letter, to the girl nearest him, which she was reading. From the way she stood, she was quite proud of her ability to read, and spoke with confidence the content of the letter to the man. He occasionally nodded or shook his head, and was listening intently to the words. When she was done, he placed a coin into her hand and hurried away.

"Got tired of living with the old layabouts, then?"

The two girls turned suddenly.

"Gavroche!" the younger exclaimed, and they both rushed towards the gamin who had just spoken.

"Where have you been? We looked everywhere," Eponine, the one who had read the letter, said,"or at least, everywhere that we could get to within a few days." She grinned, "'s funny, that when we at last stopped looking we found you."

"Don't forget, I was the one 'ho found you, spoke Gavroche, "so tell me. What brings y' here? That can't 'ave been one of our father's letters. He don't know where you are. "

"That, I'm not quite sure. I just had to stay away from home. I also felt that I needed to find you. No clue why, just that there's somewhere we need to be. Azelma just came for the sake of it." Azelma opened her mouth to complain, but Eponine continued, "She_ did_ have no reason to come. Come to think of it, I had no reason to come either… but anyway, I just offered to read that man's letter to him. Thought it would earn me a sou, and it did."

"I wanted to come!" Azelma cut in, "come on, if I hadn't come you would 'ave got nowhere. I don't believe you did search while I was. Ow! I can't talk any sense into her."

Eponine shoved her sister to the side once more. This time she was rewarding with a more satisfying squeak.

Gavroche seemed thoughtful. But somehow he kept up his cheerful manner, too. "You were looking for me? Well, here I am. I've no place better to go, and I've nowhere to stay, so what d' you need me for? What trick do you want this dog to do?"

From then they talked. Gavroche may have not taken anything seriously, Eponine might have not understood her own intentions, and Azelma might understand none of why she was there, but somehow the three siblings came to an understanding. How could Eponine know exactly what she was explaining? Her mind seemed to form a blockage, a barrier between her and home, or what she had once called home. If ever a stray thought managed to lurk towards returning, a different voice in her head spoke, and its meaning was clear: _No!_ Subconsciously, she probably did wish to return to the place which she had left. The voice which discouraged her sounded chillingly unlike her own.

Gavroche told them about how he had found out that they had left, but did not mention why he himself had been in this area. He noticed Eponine's touchy reluctance to return, even though she herself could find no reason not to. Azelma did not say much, only to try to correct her sister or to attempt to explain why she had followed. There was still that sisterly connection between her and Eponine. It was of a kind that she felt inclined to follow her, should she get in trouble, which, in Eponine's case, was quite often. In any case when Eponine did fall into the pit of trouble, Azelma did not expect to be able to help. She just needed to be there. On the streets there would be cold, hunger, pain, and there was no doubt Eponine would suffer from her illogical idea of leaving. For Gavroche, it was normal, and she had long ago stopped bothering to worry about him. If she stayed on the streets with them, she would only experience the pain herself. But if Eponine was going to go through something difficult, Azelma felt she had to also.

Suddenly the snow began again. It should have meant nothing, but all three froze. Had there been a cry on the wind? No. It was just the same noise that a tree makes when its branches creek. Gavroche hastily brushed snow off his head, and stamped on the ground to hear the crunch of the snow. The silence penetrated better than any scream. The street was empty.

Their gazes met, and they turned towards one end of the street. It led away from the main shops. Away from the centre of the city.

The path they followed led out of the city.


	4. A Simple Letter

On a street, the three figures walked. Each one shivered, but such a thing did not stop them. Their faces were dismal, and they spoke few words to one another. If any had lived normal lives before, they would hardly be recognisable to an onlooker. The truth was that they had been so thin before that the couple of days without much food had hardly made a difference. They looked as if they should collapse from either the cold or the hunger, but they walked on. It was their way of living. This rough, harsh style, which many a person would think impossible. There was one difference, however. It was in their eyes. A new light had dawned, and it was not a positive one. It was a torch of confusion. What lay ahead? They did not know. It was not as if 'there was no turning back', they simply continued onwards because the alternative, to stay,would hardly be better.

Their walk seemed endless. A city, when looked upon by eyes scanning a map, can seem not so difficult to cross. But when it is walked upon by youths, with bare feet over snow, the journey can be made ten times more tedious. The few stops for rest they had made were brief. Azelma often would stop when they came to a patch of ground partly sheltered from the snow, either by a building or a cart. Although neither Eponine nor Gavroche admitted it, they needed the resting time also. Azelma often grumbled about how they seemed to manage to avoid exhausting, and that her own limbs felt as if they would fall off. Her siblings said nothing, though. They refused to admit when they grew weary, and waited for Azelma to give in first.

Eponine smiled when Azelma once again called after them to stop. She sat down gratefully on the damp street, but this time did not bother to pull her skirt close to her. It did not keep her warm, now that it was soaked through. A man passed them, but did not give so much as a second glance. She had passed many people like herself, poor and pitifully skinny. But most, she could tell, were used to it. She could tell by the way they did not even look hopefully or longingly at the strangers passing. They knew what manner of charity they would receive: none. No person gave any attention to these street folk, and if there was a generous man who gave a little, the beggar would be more shocked than grateful. Eponine knew the reason why they received no help. Any person with enough spare money to give would think the same as always: "why give anything to these people? They will not live on longer than a few years, anyway." She kept her mind focused on the present, and did not think much of the other poor souls who wandered the streets.

Gavroche did not sit down. He gazed at a side street thoughtfully. He wandered casually over to it, and examined it. There seemed to be a few shops on the street, adn a steady flow of people,but not much more. A mischievous smile broke across his face.

"I've been here once before, yes, I have. Let me go, and I'll be back in all good time, sisters! Just wait right here." and with these words, Gavroche ran down the side street.

Eponine and Azelma both stood up hastily, and Eponine did not bother to brush the dirt off her skirt. She called after him, but the small boy refused to turn back, even though he had probably heard.

"What does he think he's up to?" Eponine asked, frustration clearly revealing itself in her voice. She took a few steps towards the street.

"Wait, he said he'd be back. D'you think we should stay here?" Azelma called cautiously. She went forwards to stand in front of her sister.

"What for? If anyone's to wait here it should be him," she started off again down the side street.

"We don't know where he's gone, so how do you expect to find him any quicker than if we just waited," Azelma grabbed her sister's arm, and, although she was weary, held tight.

Eponine gave her sister a look which could almost be called a glare, but then sighed. "If I'm not to look for him, then I should at least do something during the wait."

She hummed as she strolled onto the edge of the street. Azelma, as she expected, stuckto her side like an oldloyal dog. That girl was tense, and probably ready to pull, or shove,her out of trouble any minute. Eponine did not mean to walk far, though. She wandered, ignoring many of the people, just as they ignored her.

Someone caught her eye. It was a man trying to sell a few baskets of dry crops. She pitied him. The crops were wrinkled and shrunken, and looked to be hardly worth a sou. They probably were the remains of his autumn produce, grown in a small patch of land. He had the luxury of wearing a cap and a coat. Earlier he may have been more enthusiastic about selling his goods, but now he leaned against a building, and ignored his baskets on the ground. From the look of them, he had sold few, andwas remainingoutside only in a desperate hope to earn something. She only pitied him slightly, though, being herself in a position which was not so much worse than his. She never gave much thought to others poor and wretched like herself.

In his hand was what looked like a letter, and he held it in a manner which chilled her. He clutched it tightly, turning his knuckles whiter than they already were. It was the way a man would hold something he feared, which troubled him, which he could hardly believe was real, but which he feared even more to drop. A thought crossed her mind. She could offer to read that letter to him, and find what it contained. But he surely must already know the content, if he held it with such a deathly grip… or was it simply who the letter was from which made him act in this manner. It was unlikely that this man would need assistance to read the letter, but she did not want to forego even a slight chance of earning something. A hint of jealousy of Gavroche lurked in her intentions. He seemed to know everything about everything. This was a time when she was curious and in the need of an occupation, and finding out what troubled a poor man could be what she was looking for. Was this a cruel amusement? She did not think of the fact.

He looked up as she approached; hope of a possible customer gleaming in his sullen eyes. But this light soon fell when he saw that she was no more likely to have anything to buy his produce with than he was of being able to buy a carriage. She was a scrawny, ragged girl. The most he should need to do in her presence was guard his possessions, for she could be a thief.

"Do you need help with that letter, monsieur?"

The expression on his face was enough to answer her. For a moment she wondered if he would stand up and walk away, but he stood his ground. The colour of his face was now pale, and had the man had broken into a sweat.

"No," was the simpleanswer which he gave.

Slightly disappointed, she turned to walk away.

"What do you believe in, girl?"

She stopped, and frowned, "believe in?" she ventured cautiously.

"This is a letter from someone not too far from here. There have been strange occurances where she is."

"Strange?"

"There have always been the old village tales, but from what the woman tells me, the whole area is in on this new tale. They all believe it, as if it's real or something."

She stood, not saying a word. Is this man a lunatic? If he was, it was the last thing she needed. By this time, Azelma had come to stand at her side. She glanced curiously at Eponine. She looked at the man more closely, and Eponinefelt her tense. She was never as good around strangers as her. Nevertheless, it took all Eponine had to disguise how nervous she was herself.

The man continued, "There have been strange happenings, out there. Illness, disappearances… and the stories… I'm not sure myself whether she doesn't believe it. Apparently, some have fled," he sighed, "and all inone old village."

Azelma, took a step back, but did not dare to leave her sister alone with the man. Not a lunatic, thought Eponine, just a man who hadrecieved a letter fromone. Her own instincts were ordering her to go, and her mind did not disagree.

But this man had news from out of Paris, which was where they were going. She made no move. The man looked away, and turned back to his baskets; he had no more to tell.

Azelma gratefully walked away with her sister. The street rang with life. To the girls, time had quieted and slowed down with the odd conversation with the man. To the rest of the world, it was nothing.

"Oh, and if I were you," the man added after them, "I would stay away from such a place as that. Spread the word: keep away from the village of Montfermeil."


	5. One Place

"Montfermeil? Is that what he said?"

"'Course. Didn't you hear him?"

A wall of silence cam between the two sisters. Neither dared to speak a word.

Eponine walked back out of the street, and around the corner. She casually went back to where they were supposed to be waiting for Gavroche. The marks in the snow were still visible, and she went to sit down. She was so deep in thought that she did not even notice a man hurrying briskly through the street. He knocked into her, and she just managed to put a foot down to stop herself from falling. She turned angrily towards the man, but he had not stopped, so he was already a considerable distance down the street. She sat down on the side of the street.

Azelma did not sit. She paced anxiously, taking few steps in one direction before turning to the next. Her face was all that was needed to speak of her anxiety.

"Montfermeil," Eponine muttered thoughtfully. She raised her voice so that Azelma could hear, "I never expected to hear of _that_ place again. It's odd, the way places can disappear from your mind. Seems like a different world."

Silence returned. Montfermeil, where they had been born, hardly had ever been mentioned since the day they had come to Paris. It was a small village, surrounded by woods and fields. The water had come from a well, and there were few shops. It was different from Paris in so many ways. The two had adjusted to Paris, and the ways of life in the city. They had moved from a land of dusty paths and trees to a world of stone and brick.

But the worldly difference between where Eponine had once lived and where she lived now did not come from the places themselves. It came from herself. There had been a large change within her when she had moved.

The memories were blurred, as if she was looking through smoke. She remembered some things in such detail, but others were misted, and fragmented like pieces of glass. Those were fragmented so much that they looked as if they could shatter any minute. Some, though, were clear. She could remember the noise from the tables of the inn clearly. There were always the usual drunkards, the regulars who came to spend times away from theirs families. There were the casual travellers who talked and laughed, the person who came to drink away his depression, there was always one person who complained about the noise and accommodation of the inn, and then there were always the quiet people who never spoke loudly, but emitted grumbles about the prices. Living in an inn, she grew used to strangers and noise, and it had prepared her for moving to Paris.

Eponine had not been deprived as a child. In fact, she had not been aware of the growing dept, like a tower being added to each day, which surrounded threateningly her parents' business. The dept had engulfed them, and sent them away to Paris. The living her parents had made, although her father overcharged greatly, had been a normal job. They had a place in society. The police had no need to track them, as they were only doing their job, and because only a fool would complain to the police about being overcharged, however great the cost was. When she was younger, she had unconsciously met cruelty when she had used it as a weapon against the Lark, but now she met with the other side of cruelty. The harsh streets of Paris victimised her, and had no mercy.

"Well?" Azelma sat down beside her sister. She winced as the cold of the snow bit through her skirt.

"Well what? There's nothing to say about it, is there?"

"I mean… the illness. Oh, I don't know what I mean."

A voice came from a short way off. The voice was singing. The song was cheerful, and was not in the voice of a man, but a young boy. It was a voice which the two girls knew.

Gavroche came towards his sisters, but when Azelma scrambled up and walked over to him, Eponine glared. He shrugged, and motioned down the street. Without waiting for them, he began to walk, with a grin on his face.

"Gavroche! Where've you been?" Azelma asked, "We waited for you the whole time. Well, we did do something, after all." Her tone became firmer, "why did you just go off like that? We could have gone with you, or—"

"—why'd you leave?" Eponine interrupted. She kept the same constant glare, focused on her brother.

"Huh?" Gavroche paused, "you wouldn't have done nothing where I went."

"You should have told us where you were going. So tell us now."

Azelma turned. Eponine had neither moved nor spoken. She stood up, taking her time, and turned away.

"Come on," Gavroche called, slightly too loudly, "this is the story: I went to the end o' the street, and turned a couple of corners. I've been here a couple of times, and there was an old shop I knew. You not listening? Fine," he turned towards Azelma, and spoke to her, "I found the shop a while back. I thought 'if it's the same man there as before, then I may as well pay him a visit.' Yeah, 'e's still there and he sells bread an' stuff. He didn't remember me, the old lazy man, so I decided to remind him."

And then the gamin held out a loaf of bread. It was thin, but a good size, and just wide enough for the boy to put both hands around it and touch the tips of his fingers.

"Convenient, that," he added, "The way them shopkeepers like to put their finest stuff at the front. He was just a bit fat, so I thought I'd help 'im out."

Azelma was smiling by the time Gavroche had finished talking. At first she had frowned at the quality of the white bread, but then had shrugged. It was true; they did need the bread more than the shopkeeper would have. Gavroche pulled about a third off the bread, and handed it to Azelma. Then, without breaking his larger piece in half, he raised it and bit it. Azelma glanced cautiously at Eponine, who still stood her ground.

Eponine shrugged, "Fine," she said, "maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for you to go off like that. There, happy now?"

Her brother grinned without looking away from his meal, broke the piece of bread in half, slightly unevenly, and held the unbitten piece in her direction. It was the smaller one; he had made sure of that.

She took the piece of bread, keeping any sign of her gratefulness from showing on her face.

"Next time, next time you 'know a place' I mean, tell us. I will go with you next time. and it would stop us all from having to repeatedly tell each other of the odd things which happened."

There was something about the way she said this which made him pause and look up.

"Why," he asked, "what happened?"

Eponine described to her brother what had happened while he was gone. She attempted to bore him at first with her descriptions of the wrinkled parsnips and turnips in the man's baskets. She soon became bored herself though, so when she was satisfied that she had managed to drag the conversation on enough, she cut to the chase. His head was down, and intent on making sure that not a single crumb of bread fell, when one word which she said made him look up. Not even the illness or the 'stories' had affected him, he had simply shrugged, but every person has their own personal words which affect them. The word, Montfermeil, would not have affected any other beggar or gamin, but it affected Gavroche just as it had affected his sisters.

"Montfermeil?" he inquired eagerly, "not _that_ old village! I hardly remember it, but I always liked a good story, like the crazy village rumours the man must be speaking about. And they're always that much better coming from the mouth of a lunatic," he paused, and added, "from the sound of it, there's more than one crazy person there."

Eponine and Azelma stared at him. this reaction was far form their own. He gazed into the distance, and began to sing something under his breath. It was another tune which was likely forgotten by all but the gamins of Paris. A song which is passed on from one gamin to another in the same way stories were passed on by word of mouth between our ancestors. There were a few moments when none spoke, and the only sound to break the silence was the boy's singing. Time passed, it could have been an hour, or it could have been two seconds. Eventually Gavroche spoke up.

"I say we go there," said he.


	6. Disguising Fear

Sometimes there is a moment of silence which seems like a year. The people involved stare, each searching desperately for something to say, but none find a satisfying answer. Time slows. Have they been staring at each other for a second, or a day? Each one fears to make their position worse by whatever they try to say. None know what to say. Such was the case with Eponine and Azelma on Gavroche's comment.

Eponine felt the uncontrollable desire to argue, to crush his sudden idea. She did not wish to go to Montfermeil, and was astonished that he would want such a thing. Was this not her brother? The gamin of Paris, who knew every paving stone of every alleyway and street of the area? He, who had managed to keep himself alive on the streets for all these years without once having a proper job? For Eponine and Azelma, the days now were unpredictable. There was no purpose, no reason to be out here, other than that unexplained wariness Eponine had suddenly felt of her home, of her life in Paris. It was the feeling, the imagination, that something was about to draw her in, and get her caught up in a doomed path which she would never escape. She had fled from that fate. She had no idea of what she would be doing a few days from now. She did not even know, anymore, what the purpose of her existence was.

For Gavroche, this was simply a normal day. He had lived in this way for years, and knew his pattern and his place in life. So why was it that he of all of them wanted to leave?

"Montfermeil?" Eponine's tone was one of disbelief. When he gave no reply, she laughed casually and said, "For a moment there I thought you serious. Montfermeil! You returning there! Just think of that!"

She gave her brother a nudge, which was slightly more than gentle. She struggled to hide any sign of seriousness or belief in either her voice or her face. Gavroche grinned, and began to sing. The tune was jolly, and his eyes sparkled as he sung.

"Oh, he does tease," Eponine announced, "Well, I guess we best get on with our walking. You mustn't lie about what you want to do, it could get us worried," she pressed on.

Gavroche ignored Eponine's remarks, and spoke to Azelma, "so, what do you say?" he glanced at Eponine, before continuing, "how about we see the old place?"

Azelma shifted uneasily. Eponine interrupted, "Oh, what a wicked child! Such ambition, for one who does not have one clue of what he's talking about. He knows nothing of what he means, he doesn't."

Azelma said nothing. An argument between her brother and sister would be hard enough, but now they were attempting to pull her into the middle of it. As for herself, she did not particularly want to return to Montfermeil, but neither could she think of anything else to do. She breathed slowly. In, then out. She looked at Gavroche. He was staring up at her intently, and from the look of it meant to kick Eponine some time soon. Eponine had planted her feet firmly onto the stones of the street, and was looking intently at her. In one of her hands she was squeezing a small part of her skirt, and the soaked material occasionally dripped a drop of water as she twisted it tighter. She was tense, but there was something about her posture, the way her eyes occasionally drifted away into a mist of fear, that made Azelma realise what she was thinking of. Azelma saw in Eponine a reflection of herself, or what she imagined herself to look like, when she though of Montfermeil. It was a mixture of fear and confusion, as if what she remembered she wished she could forget.

Azelma remembered a spring day in Montfermeil, almost ten years ago. She saw the garden of the chop house, where she had lived. The overgrown grass was damp from the rain during the night. The Lark was standing on the lawn, and probably should have been working in one way or another, or doing a chore for Azelma and Eponine's mother. The tiny, frail girl had stopped, though. She was staring intently at the ground, and when Azelma looked she saw a daisy. It was one of many daisies now growing on the lawn, among the rubbish and rust which had been thoughtlessly dumped outside. The Lark bent down and reached out towards the daisy in front of her. By now Eponine had come onto the lawn, and she too had seen the daisy. She liked flowers, and she wanted to hold and touch it. She walked towards the Lark, who now clutched the daisy within her tiny fingers, now wet from the grass. Eponine attempted to pry the daisy out of the Lark's hand, and when the girl refused to let go she snatched at it and hit her hand. The flower fell crumpled to the ground, and Eponine stared at the petals. Now she would never get to hold the daisy. She hit the Lark's hand. The Lark backed away, and thrust her arm into Eponine's in a reaction of defence. She let out a scream, and pushed hard against the Lark. Azelma turned at the sound of footsteps; their mother had entered the scene, and she now knew how this would end.

By the time Eponine's mother reached the two girls, their skirts were soaked, and mud coated their legs. In Eponine's case, the mud had splattered from the ground; in the Lark's, the mud had been smudged onto her legs by Eponine's kicks. Madame Thenardier lifted up her child, and left the Lark whimpering on the ground. A passer by called from across the fence, looking sternly at the large woman holding the child.

"Have you no shame, madame? Children should not be able to scream and fight like wild animals."

Eponine looked at the man, a slight grin on her face. But then she realised that the man had not been talking about the Lark.

Now, Azelma looked at the teenage girl glaring. She was at a loss for words. She _had_ originally agreed to go with Eponine, but she did not want to upset her brother either. She swallowed, and then spoke carefully, "Well, first think of why we'd go to Montfermeil. I don't understand why you would want to go, but—"

Gavroche shouted furiously, "I told ya. Why not go where all the fuss is, and see what makes these people squirm. If it were any other place I'd still want to go. Why let the name of the place scare you? It will be just like any other old village, I tell you. You'd go if it wasn't Montfermeil," and with that, he stamped his foot on the ground.

Eponine laughed, and raised her voice. "You think I'm a fool? I don't care what the name is," Azelma saw a slight hint of a shudder after these words, "there's disease there, the man said. Doesn't sound like a nice place to go."

"After Paris? You don't really care 'bout that. Sure, it don't sound like a nice place, but then nowhere is a nice place," Gavroche suddenly paused, and blinked. "What am I saying? I never was with anyone before. I'll go by myself. Well, here I go."

He turned, and strolled away from them. Eponine and Azelma stared, but made no move. Eponine glared at him, and Azelma was too shocked to do anything. He reached the first street he could turn into, and turned. They waited, and within a minute he had disappeared from view. Eponine shrugged, as if shrugging out of a dream.

"He's goin' back to his normal place."

Azelma replied quietly, "I guess. He's not going anywhere without us, is he? All that talk, all that complaining, and now he's not bothered to go."

A sudden surge of annoyance, strong enough that it may have been anger, came over her. "What'll we do?"

Eponine breathed deeply. He would vanish back into the streets of Paris, now. The past day she had spent with him had been different. He had felt different. Always in Paris he had been simply an obscure child, living his own life, and stayed entirely separate from her life. Only on rare occasions had he skimmed across the outskirts of her life, and reminded her that he was still alive, before disappearing once more. Every time he left, she had wondered if it would be the last time she would see him. Then she would be pulled back into her own life, and forget about him as she performed the next task for her parents. She always thought of Azelma as her sister. Someone would ask her whether she had any brothers or sisters, and she would answer "I have a sister". It would only occur to her afterwards that she had a brother, too. Throughout the past day he had been real. The last time she had really spent a full day with him had been in… it had been in Montfermeil. Now he had disappeared again, and she did not know what to do. After leaving her home, she had always imagined the three of them travelling together. Then she realised what had just passed through her mind. Travelling. That was what she really wanted to do with her time. Before her life, this odd time to be spent away from her home, had been far off in the distance. She had not understood what she was going to do with herself, but now she knew what she was going to do. She was going to travel.


	7. In the Darkness

"Fine," she announced.

Azelma looked at her, "what?" she asked sourly.

"We'll go."

Her heartbeat quickened, "Where?"

"We need to find him again."

Find him? Azelma thought. Eponine did not seem to be acting like her usual self. At any other time, she would expect her sister to either argue until she found something better to do, or to angrily agree to do what the other person wanted. Even when she did agree, she performed the job half heartedly, and would mutter about how terrible it was. Azelma had not expected Eponine to change her mind. Or was 'change her mind' the right phrase? Come to think of it, she may just want to shout at Gavroche some more, but somehow Azelma doubted it.

"But," she began, "why?"

Eponine gave a harsh, guttural laugh. "Why? So I need a reason, now? I had no reason before for not wanting to go there. And," she added, "if it's my idea too then it won't be 'im getting his way."

A particularly sharp gust of wind slapped them in a mocking fashion. Eponine felt exactly how soaked her skirt was when it touched her skin. Azelma attempted again to figure out what had gotten into her sister, but Eponine avoided the questions. She would simply laugh, and give a pointless reply with no meaning. Did she ever mean to answer the questions? Not before she could figure out why she had changed her mind herself. No, she would not admit to having her opinion being swayed. Let Azelma talk herself out. She began to walk, and her sister had no choice but to follow.

Troubles burned inside her. She wondered how she was going to explain to Gavroche why she suddenly agreed with him. Well, she still did not exactly _want_ to go to Montfermeil of all places, and she planned to find a way to sidestep the village. It was safe to say that he had no clue how to find it, and she for one could not remember the full way. The move from Montfermeil to Paris had been sudden, and she had been too worried about leaving all she knew behind to care about the route of travel.

Yes, that was the answer. She would lead them the wrong way. But then what? Did she want to end up lost on some endless field? She would be with Azelma and Gavroche, too. She had never thought much of responsibility, other than when doing jobs for her father. Even then she tended to forget what she was supposed to do. 'Forget' was not quite the right word, though. She had learned that if she put something at the back of her mind, she could convince herself, and others, that she really had forgotten. If a slight feeling of disappointment remained, a feeling that she could have done better, she ignored it.

Could returning to Montfermeil really be that bad? If anything, it was Paris which concealed the real memories of horror. There were things she had done which were so terrible that they had eaten away at her mind, until all she could do was laugh about them half-heartedly. But there was some form of terror of Montfermeil which came not from what had happened there, but what she had been. Somewhere, at the back of her mind, she knew that what she really feared was being reminded of what she had become.

They travelled back, deeper into Paris. They used a different route this time, one with more people and shops. Azelma couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling as they turned back on the road they had originally taken. It was like going backwards.

"'Ponine, d'you know where he normally goes? Just a daily place or street, I mean," Azelma asked, after they had been walking speechlessly for what she thought was long enough.

Eponine laughed, "Why would I? Sometimes I went outside at night, you know, when all the people had left. I'd see a couple of gamins running here an' there, an' they'd all be acting as if they know the place better than any bourgeois who's lived there more than thirty years. There's no particular place for them, but I watched them long enough to figure that they like the large streets. You know, lots of carts standing about, and plenty of shelter. There isn't nothing like a good old corner to sleep in."

Azelma sighed. She had never gone outside alone, but she did have a slight idea of where to look from her sister's vague description. She hardly knew Gavroche, let alone where his haunts were. But Eponine sounded sure enough of where to go, and Azelma knew that she was smart enough not to lead them too close back to the Gorbeau tenement. And so she followed her sister.

The darkness of the sky increased, and the world was veiled. Silence stalked the two girls wherever they went, like a predator threatening to pounce. For only when a predator is silent, not when it howls, is it really on the hunt. They made their way down one street, and then the next. The pace was determined, and they only stopped or slowed if they heard a sound, and then they would continue walking. Such a city can become a maze in the dark, even to those who know it. They did not lose their way, they would only occasionally realise a mistake, and say "Wait! I remember a street back there where he could be," and head off in the other direction.

A bird called. It was not the light cry of a morning bird, for it was still night. The haunting cry swept over the rooftops, and could have made many a child sleeping in a home wake up and shiver. The girls ignored it, though. They were too immersed in their search for their brother to think of anything else. They were far from worried about him, but still their frustration had built up to a considerable level. Since it was night, they had agreed not to separate in their search, more on Azelma's account than anything else. A faint shuffling could be heard. Probably rats, Eponine thought.

As they neared the end of the street, the shuffling was louder, and more pronounced. Soon it ceased to advance, but then more shuffling began again. The producers of the shuffling had not departed, they meant to remain. When they were several feet from the corner, Azelma stopped. She grabbed at her sister's hand to stop her. Had they grown up differently, Eponine would have uttered a word of annoyance at her sister's sudden halt. But she was too familiar with the dangers of Parisian streets, and stopped without a word.

"Gamins?" Azelma inquired, her voice the lightest whisper. She had become accustomed to speaking in such a low volume since moving to Paris.

"No", Eponine also spoke in the voice which was hardly distinguishable from silence. Having many times been sent on watch for their father's business, they conversed freely in this almost inaudible way. She raised her head to listen for a moment, "Men."

They froze. The question of Montparnasse or another of the men who were hired by their father arose. But at this moment their greatest fear was of other men who walked in darkness, men which they did not know. The shuffling continued, and Azelma was thankful for the snow, which had given away the men before they had turned into the corner. The noise was definitely men, she decided, having often been around her father's 'friends'.

The noise continued, and the girls waited patiently. Azelma, being the younger, had often been given the more stationary jobs from her father, and if there was any doubt about waiting her fear told her otherwise. Eponine stood still with her feet planted firmly on the ground, but after a while she began to fiddle with strands of her hair. Azelma whispered a word to tell her sister to concentrate, soon gave up when it was apparent that the only way to make her sister listen to her was to raise her voice.

Her breath caught in her throat when coarse whispers came to her. The men clearly though they were alone, as they spoke fairly loudly. The voices were all harsh, and difficult to distinguish. It could have been just two men talking, but both girls guessed otherwise.

"Alright, who's 'ere?"

"Everyone you asked."

"Everyone?"

Eponine tensed, and stood still. The word 'everyone' meant that there were more men than even she had feared.

"Yeah, we got word around fast. All this snow, and not half as much to do as normal."

"Renaud, I thought you weren't coming."

"Change of plan, I 'ad to give up on some business when an idiot of a man changed 'is mind. A whole day's work for nothing."

"If I were you I'd teach that man a lesson about the way we work."

"Sure, but what would I 'ave got out of it? He meant to pay me with part of what I got from the job."

"Right, listen. Did we come 'ere to discuss our lives or to do business? I don't need to know what happened to you today, we're here to discuss what we'll do tomorrow…"


	8. Thief in the Night

The voices in the dark went on. Sometimes they were hardly more than a whisper, but then the men would grow angry or excited, and raise the volume until one of them shushed the rest. Without being able to see the men most of the voices were indistinguishable, but there was one which stood out. The voice was rough and low, and often spoke above the others. It was this voice which spoke the most, and which talked of the plans.

"We are here for a reason," the rough voice said, "and I'll tell you all in good time. Why tomorrow? Tomorrow's good as any day, that's the reason. Now, we've all worked together in one way or another before, but from tomorrow it'll be different. We've all been given business by others before, and got our pay, but this'll be different I tell you."

"It better be different. There's been too many times when an old man's given me the stare 'cause of what I've done. 's almost as if 'e's expecting less. I'm just following orders—"

"—His orders!" another voice interrupted angrily.

"Yes, none other than his own orders, that's what I tell him. An' then he gives me my pay, an' it's half of what I've been expecting. He tells me that 'the job was too messy'. Not clean enough for 'is liking."

"I don't give my business to men new to our ways. It's better to stick to working for the same people. A man never asks us once, is what I say. They always ask you back, and they pay you more the second time, too."

"Sure. When doing a job for someone no one's heard of it's tricky. You end up thinkin' you're gonna end up in prison each time."

"Right, quiet now," the rough voice ordered, "you could wake someone up."

"Not a chance. They wouldn't think anything of it, anyway. Amazing how ignorant Parisians are."

"You never know, being in these parts. Why'd we have to meet here? It wouldn't have been too hard to get right into to the barrières from here. In the outskirts of the city, no one cares. I even heard of a man who was fool enough to leave a tool on the street one time, and no one cared! In those districts, there's more cover and even if someone does see us in the dark, they wouldn't care."

"The way you're blabbering they will hear us, they will, all right. We're here 'cause it's quiet. In the barrières there'd be sure as hell someone else there. With all those wretched little gamins running about it's like a permanent troop of spies watching you."

At this point there was a pause. Azelma, after hearing the last remarks, glanced around nervously. Eponine cursed under her breath. When Azelma glared at her, startled more than anything for risking giving them both away, all she did was shrug. She shrugged, of course, only after she had made sure they had not been heard. Eponine was more concerned about the fact that they hadn't searched the barrières yet. In fact she had thought of the possibility, but decided against it. Much as she wanted to find Gavroche, she could not risk going back too close to her home, which was in exactly the sort of area her brother might be in.

The streets were still, like a forest turned to stone. Azelma's eyes were well adjusted in the darkness, but the closest street lamp was a way off. The conversation unsettled her. The reason for this was not the content, but the fact that she recognised many of the situations they spoke of. She found herself sympathising with the men in a way no fourteen year old should be able to. She even had heard a similar sort of conversation before, coming from the mouths of the men who she often saw with her father. She was not so sure that she would be able to recognise a voice, let alone a whisper, but she was more or less convinced that none of these men were known to her.

Eponine stood calmly, taking in every word thoughtfully. If she had listened to a conversation between ordinary shopkeepers, she would not have understood as much as she did now. Often had she been put on watch for her father, or played some part in the kind of business these men were speaking about. Did that make her a part of this dark underworld? She knew the answer: yes. If the conversation had been between Montparnasse, Babet, Brujon and Claquesous, who often did a job for her father, she may have even joined in. She found herself interested in the business the rough voice, the leader with no doubt, had called the others here to arrange.

"We've all done basic street robberies. No one paying you to do it, no trouble, and that's all very well. What we are going to do won't be exactly hard, if we do it right, and it's not a murder either."

A series of murmurs went through the group, of which Eponine and Azelma could only understand a bit of.

"What's he getting us into?"

"I only do things thats worth doing."

"I suppose next he'll want us to do a service to Paris, too."

"Lamont! Guillaume! Fabron! Quiet, you'll get your fun. Don't worry," the voice continued, "there'll be plenty of work for all of you. Now, what I'm about to say may sound foolish, but I've heard word that it's true. Sure, I trust them that gave me the word, but there'll be work even if what I heard's false. It'll be well worth it, d'you hear me? It won't need any tools and the like."

The sound of chuckling could be heard after the word 'tools'. The voice continued.

"There'll be easy enough pickings. Why? Because we'll be stealing from people who'll be dead within a month. They'll be dead, an' if they're not, they won't be able to do anything about it."

At this point there were more mumbles. Among them, which sent shivers down Azelma's spine, was a laugh.

Another whispery voice interrupted.

"Why are you acting so smug all of a sudden? Just tell us what you mean straight an' to the point. Your plan sounds all very well, but I'm just wonderin' where we're actually stealing from. Closest thing I can think of to what you're goin' on about is a prison."

Laughter followed which was so fierce that Azelma wondered that someone else surely should have heard them, but no person came. The laughter turned nervous and then faded, as if the men had been gagged by a burning glare. The rough voice spoke again.

"No, we're not going to be robbing a prison. Although from the sound of this place, it won't be far from a prison."

"Just a moment there. 'The sound of this place'? You mean you've never checked to see what it's really like?"

"Course I haven't. I had my share of business, just like you. I've checked around, though, and it sounds true enough. Anyway, if you'll let me finish, you'll learn where we're goin'. I'm gonna need all of you to do this. Have any f you heard of a village to the east of here called Montfermeil?"

Azelma looked at Eponine uneasily and tried to catch her eye. Her sister was too intent on listening to what the men had to say, but her brow was furrowed. The rough voice continued without waiting for an answer.

"Word got round that there's illness in that village. From what I've been told, people aren't daring to go outside, and some have died. We're goin' to go to that village, and grab all that we can. There ain't any place better to take advantage of than a diseased village filled with superstitious fools."

All men started talking at once. Some were excited, some nervous, and others confused. The voices rose but then were quieted down again, but they still continued to make plans. Many were eager comments about what they could do there, and some asked questions.

The girls' thoughts were flurries of confusion. Montfermeil? The men were going to rob Montfermeil. Azelma could not remember individual people from the small town, but she did remember vague faces, voices… She had spent most of the time in the inn or with Eponine, but the townsfolk had been friendly. They had stayed more or less away from her parents, but when they had spoken a word or two to her they had been friendly.

Eponine was all the more confused. True, she was worried about the town where she had grown up, but this was a new reason to stay away from it. She had finally convinced herself to go to Montfermeil with Azelma and Gavroche, and now another worry had appeared. Apart from a spark of interest for the matter, she hardly wished to go to a place targeted by thieves.

The sound of footsteps distracted them both. They looked at the corner where the men were. Moments ticked by, and the footsteps continued. The footsteps, in the silence, seemed to grow louder, and echo around the whole street.

The figures appeared from around the corner.


End file.
